


and so the moon rises

by klefaeries



Series: knock us down and we'll keep on going [3]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, OOC characters, hands u my botched version of soundwave pls love him ok, i hit canon with a large stick until it calls me daddy, knock out and the reader are not straight and neither am i, mentions of breakdown/knock out, rated m for language slightly inappropriate sex talk, soft knock out makes me a weak bitch, soundwave just loves his cat a lot and wants her to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klefaeries/pseuds/klefaeries
Summary: It's the morning of your twenty-fifth birthday. You awake with a strange robotic cat staring at you. It doesn't take long to learn that there is more than meets the eye to her, and once again you are thrust into a precarious situation involving being kidnapped by robot aliens. At least you enjoyed your cake before everything went to shit. Companion piece to "the universe of you and i" and "oh, how sweet the stars"
Relationships: Knock Out/Reader, Knock Out/You
Series: knock us down and we'll keep on going [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809709
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	and so the moon rises

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH hi
> 
> i rly didn't think i was going to make a part 3 but here i am...simping over my portrayal of knock out...and crying about cybercats 
> 
> there's not much to say about this one. as always, some parts may be rushed or just not that good, but im focusing on just enjoying myself rather than being a perfectionist.
> 
> please read "oh, how sweet the stars" and its sequel "the universe of you and i" to understand it, tho!

It’s the morning of your twenty-fifth birthday. You didn’t want a big party. You didn’t want to make a big deal about it. You requested everyone in Team Prime treat it as a normal day, because to you, it really was. Birthdays have never been something you celebrated eagerly. Knock Out assured you that he would respect your wishes and the only thing he would do for you is request Jack, Miko, and Raf to accompany him into Jasper and pick up a simple cake, even though he wouldn’t actually be able to enjoy the treat himself.

So, of course, imagine your surprise when you jerk awake with a metallic ringing sound in your ears, roll over, unbury yourself from your covers, and find a very large robotic feline staring at you with unblinking violet optics.

It has been three months since Knock Out left the Decepticons and joined the Autobots. Three months since the recovery of Breakdown’s body from MECH to give him a proper burial. Three months after you and Knock Out realized you were better together when you finally stopped pushing your feelings down a deep dark hole and just fully embraced how much you both care for one another.

Three months of utter domestic bliss.

You live at the Autobot base outside of Jasper, still sharing a room with Knock Out, and work as a hybrid historian-liaison between the Autobots and the government. You knew your spreadsheet skills would at last come in handy. It wasn’t easy getting Agent Fowler to give you the job, but after many weeks of begging (and, lowkey threatening from Knock Out, if you’re being totally honest), you now spend your days compiling records of Cybertronian activity on Earth and researching how their appearances have coincided with major events. 

The pyramids definitely weren’t work of aliens, but let’s just say that the Bubonic plague would not have happened if a certain group of Decepticons hadn’t decided to release a biological weapon into your planet’s atmosphere during the Middle Ages.

It has also been three months of you really, really,  _ really  _ wanting a pet. It’s not that you can’t have one. It’s more like you’re terrified you’re going to adopt a puppy and Bulkhead will accidentally step on it, or it will get into Ratchet and Knock Out’s synthetic energon samples and decide it wants a snack. An abandoned missile silo full of giant alien robots isn’t exactly the ideal place for an organic animal. 

Plus, there is always the threat of the Decepticons discovering your location and blowing the whole fucking place up. Again, not an ideal home for a pet.

You’ve mentioned your woes in passing to Knock Out. He’s good about getting you what you want—a little  _ too  _ good. It makes you feel guilty, at times, at how attentive he is to your needs. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s taken you for a last-minute surprise drive and pulled into a humane society or shelter, only for you to chicken out because you don’t want something terrible to happen to Fluffy or Lucky or whatever basic bitch named animal you end up walking out with. 

So yes. When you wake up on the morning of your twenty-fifth birthday, alone in your room except for the robot cat the size of a small horse watching you with a curious tilt of the head, you’re startled. Confused. 

And completely delighted.

“...well hello there.” You sit up so fast you have to blink strobe lights out of your eyes, gaping at the big metal cat sitting on its haunches in front of your bed. “Where did you come from?”

The cat looks like a panther sculpted entirely from steel. It's sleek and graceful, with silver coating and a tail that ends in a barbed spike. Its optics are a deep violet; the color of a far away galaxy, and just as mesmerizing. It has no whiskers and its ears are pointed like that of a fox. Sharp claws the size of a knife blade extend from its paws. 

You reach out a hand towards it. It leans its slender neck forward, sniffing the air between your hand and its nose inquisitively. 

When it lets out a low rumbling meow with the same cadence as a lion and shoves its muzzle into your hand, you want to cry from how pure of a creature it is.

“I would die for you,” you announce to the robot cat as it rubs its muzzle against your palm. You immediately stretch your other hand over to scritch at its ear and feel yourself slip into full gooey mode. “Who’s a good kitty? Is it you? Huh? Of  _ course  _ it’s you! You’re a good kitty!” 

It begins to purr. You can feel it vibrate through your skin and bones. It takes the phrase “purring like a motor” to a much more realistic level. 

As you rub its metal face and coo sweet nothings to it, you glance down at its neck to see if there’s a collar or name tag or  _ something. _ You find none. The longer you sit there petting the giant robot cat the more you get the sneaking suspicion that something about this feels off, though you can’t describe exactly what that may be.

_ Maybe Knock Out made it? He and Ratchet have been working on a lot of projects lately. But then why would he keep telling me it’s okay to get an  _ organic  _ cat or dog if he was planning on giving me this one all along? Ugh. I don’t wanna think about things when I’ve just woken up. _

“Do you have a name?” you ask the robot cat, fully not expecting an answer. And it doesn’t give you one at first. Well, not in English, anyway.

It pauses, ears twitching. The cat withdraws from your touch and unsheathes two claws. You wince when it starts to drag them along the concrete floor; the sound is worse than nails on a chalkboard. Just when you’re about to politely ask it to stop because you don’t really want to go around with a migraine all day, it looks up at you with far-too intelligent optics and lets out a cheerful little “Mrrowl?”

You realize the cat just wrote something in Cybertronian on your floor.

You nearly tumble out of the bed as you lean over to read it. As part of your attempt to compile Cybertronian history on Earth, you have begun to learn their alphabet and language to more accurately decipher your findings. Plus, well. Knock Out thinks it’s hot when you try to talk dirty to him in his native language.

He refuses to let you live down the one time you called him a “sexy potato.” In your defense, you did get the first half right. 

The Cybertronian writing is jagged, shaky, and crooked and frankly is difficult to make out at first. You aren’t exactly fluent, yet. But you manage to translate it after staring at it for far longer than you’d like to admit, mumbling out the letters, “R...A...V...A...G...E...Ravage? Your name is Ravage?”

The robot cat—Ravage—meows again and almost seems to nod. 

You pat it on the head and grin. “Okay. Nice to meet you, Ravage. Are...are you a boy or a girl?” You feel weird asking, but you make it your policy not to misgender anyone, and Ravage seems intelligent enough to answer.

Ravage presses its hard metal nose into your leg and looks up at you expectantly. You frown, eyebrows knit together. “Are you booping me because I identify as a female and it’s your way of telling me that you do as well?” 

“Mmmrp!” Ravage bows its— _ her _ —head and rests it in your lap, purring loudly again and nuzzling against your stomach as she leans her body against your bed. You literally feel like you’re going to explode. This is the best thing that has happened to you since Knock Out kidnapped you all those months ago.

(If he won’t let you live down the sexy potato incident, you won’t let him live down that.)

“I love you,” you whisper reverently, putting your hands on either side of her feline face and hearing a choir of angels sing celestially in the background. “You are now my best friend. Don’t tell Smokescreen. He’s a baby.”

Ravage blinks her optics slowly at you to ensure you that no, she will not tell Smokescreen.

You whip out your phone (no longer deemed a national threat or whatever the fuck the government had you listed as, you now have a state-of-the-art smartphone) and open up your photos instead of camera because the two icons are right next to each other and you always forget which is which. Immediately your face goes as crimson as Knock Out’s finish when you see the slew of...tasteful nudes you had planned on spamming him with when he was going to be out on a mission without you because you are a little shit and thoroughly enjoyed the idea of him getting hot and bothered. You had completely forgotten about those.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you switch to the camera and take a quick photo of Ravage’s head in your lap. You pull up your messages with Knock Out and see that he is indeed out with the kids to find you a cake, and apologizes for not waiting until you woke up. You send a simple heart emoji first, then attach the photo in a separate message and say “lol happy birthday to me???”

The perks of dating an alien robot who can turn into a car is that texting and driving is no problem for him. Immediately—as in less than three seconds later—you get a response: “What is that.” 

“the robot cat ur givin me for my bday bc u looooooove me???????” 

“___, I didn’t give you a cybercat.”

“well then what is she doin in our room giving me nose boops and tellin me that her name is ravage bc she is the smartest kitty in the universe??????????????”

Instead of a text, you get a phone call in response.

You hit ANSWER and before you can even utter a greeting, Knock Out’s voice comes out sharp and alarmed. “Get away from that cybercat.  _ Now _ ,” he orders, and you can hear confused mumblings from Jack, Miko, and Raf in the background. It’s cute how attached they’ve gotten to Knock Out now that he’s not part of a faction who wants to destroy the entire planet and human race with it. “Don’t argue and just listen to me,  _ please.  _ Find Optimus! Ravage belongs to Soundwave! How the fuck did she get into the base?!”

Your poor habit of cursing has really rubbed off on him. The words can be so ugly, but sound so good when he says them.

You shake that thought out of your head and look down at Ravage, who has brought her giant front paws up to your mattress and is making muffins into your sheets, careful not to shred any of the fabric. She’s still purring, her optics half-lidded, tail swishing to and fro in a lazy fashion. Your gaze suddenly is drawn to the floor a few feet away. The metal cover for the air vent in the ceiling above lays there. 

You look up.

There’s scratch marks on the ceiling around the air vent like something crawled out of it.

You realize Knock Out has been frantically talking to you the entire time you were putting your observation pants on. “___?! ___, if you don’t answer, I’m going to—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, scooting over and patting the mattress next to you. Ravage’s entire body wriggles and she jumps onto the bed, making it creak and groan from the unexpected weight. You’re glad you asked for a bigger bed. The old one would have shattered. “And I’m staying with Ravage. I don’t think she belongs to Soundwave any more.”

Knock Out growls irately. “Primus, you are so stubborn! I’m on my way back, do  _ not _ make any sudden movements! That damn thing is a trained killer!”

He hangs up just as you hear Raf beginning to tell him that he’s going over the speed limit. You blow a raspberry at the screen and drop it into the blankets. Ravage is lying along your entire body with her tail dropping off of the bed and her head on one of your pillows. She’s blinking slowly at you again and you reach under her chin to give her some scratches. When you poke her in the nose, she lets out a sort of clanging sneeze and suddenly opens her jaws  _ far _ too wide, revealing two rows of fangs that could cut through diamond. A spike of fear rushes through your veins.

But she doesn’t lunge for your jugular. She just yawns, like a perfectly normal cat would, and settles further down into your blankets. Her optics fully slide shut. In moments she is purring quietly and idly, snuggled up next to you, and you just know that Ravage isn’t going to hurt you. 

“Is this how prehistoric humans felt when they domesticated wolves?” you wonder out loud. 

You must have dozed off because suddenly you’re jolting back to consciousness to the sound of heavy Cybertronian footsteps stampeding down the hallway and coming to your door. You quickly sit up and act like you weren’t just taking a nap right after waking up; Ravage’s head snaps to attention at the same time but she does not move from her spot on your bed. Knock Out, Smokescreen, and Arcee all burst into the room with weapons drawn and frames taut with battle-ready energy. 

You peer over your phone screen as if you’ve been mindlessly scrolling videos the whole time and not totally passed out. “What is up, my homies?” 

Ravage eyes them all impassively. She’s slightly tense but makes no move as to maul them all with her claws. Her tail flicks like the hands of a clock, the barbed end almost taunting, “Try me, motherfuckers. I dare you.”

“You’re cuddling with Soundwave’s cybercat,” Knock Out deadpans as he stares at you, surgeon’s blade ready to slice and dice.

“You bet your sweet aft I am. She is a perfect little princess.” You glance at the time on your phone and see it had only been a few minutes since Knock Out hung up. “How did you get here so quickly?”

“Ground bridge. Miko picked out your cake, by the way. She told me to let you know it’s got rainbow layers and vanilla buttercream frosting.” 

You sniffle approvingly. “That girl knows me so well now. If she takes even one bite before I get to see it, though, I will go into her Minecraft server and let all her cows out of their enclosures.”

“Are we all ignoring the cybercat in the room?” Arcee gestures to Ravage with her helm, keeping her gun trained on the cybercat with a steady servo. 

“Are we sure that’s Ravage?” Smokescreen asks incredulously. “I mean, I only met her once, but she was trying to chew my faceplate off. This cybercat is doing the exact opposite.”

“What other cybercats do you know that would be on Earth?” Knock Out demands. 

“I am fairly certain it’s Ravage. She wrote her name for me with her claws.” You point to the scribbled Cybertronian etched into the concrete floor and throw your arms around Ravage’s neck, hugging her affectionately. “Because she’s the smartest, prettiest, bestest kitty in the  _ whole  _ universe.” You are physically incapable of not talking to cute animals like they’re babies. Because, to you, they are all babies. Fuck human babies, though. All they do is cry and shit themselves. 

Knock Out slowly approaches the bed. Ravage’s tail swishes faster and her ears twitch but she does not move. He looks down, appraising the messy scrawl on the floor, and then raises his helm to look at Ravage in the optics. His mouth is drawn in a thin line as his free servo twitches against his side, tapping his claws against his finish. He leans forward and stares intensely at Ravage, like he’s trying to dissect her entire existence with only his optics.

She calmly stares back, as serene as a full moon. 

Knock Out withdraws his blade and throws both of his servos up in the air, scoffing unhappily. “It’s Ravage. But she’s completely different from when I knew her on the  _ Nemesis. _ And I have no idea why.”

“Because she sensed I would love her unconditionally and so she found her way to me following the love in my heart?” you suggest hopefully. As you say this you lean over and boop her nose. She shakes her head, makes a weird grinding sound in her throat, and sneezes.

At the same time, a holographic projection comes out of her optics.

You all watch as a strange scene unfolds before you. The hologram isn’t life sized, thank god, otherwise the room would be over capacity. Megatron looms over two figures you do not recognize, but know enough from Knock Out’s stories to tell who is who. 

Both Decepticons are purple. One has terrifyingly long arms and a visor for his faceplate—Soundwave. The other is an utter monstrosity even more disturbing than Megatron; Soundwave, with his weird cyclops-like optic in the middle of his cigar-shaped helm. Both are pointy, because that seems to be a prerequisite to being a Decepticon. 

As you stare at the hologram you realize from the angles that you’re viewing the scene as if you were on the floor. It doesn’t take you very long to determine that you’re watching something Ravage herself witnessed and then recorded.

“Shockwave,” Megatron says in his nightmare-inducing voice. It looks like he and the other two Decepticons are in a lab of some kind, full of strange alien technology and objects you can’t even begin to guess the purpose of. “You have promised me results. I am getting rather impatient. You’d best have something positive to report, today. I am not feeling as benevolent as I have in the past.”

He sounds pissed. He always sounds pissed, but in this recording, it’s twice as bad.

“My liege,” Shockwave replies in an emotionless tone that is far too on-point of what you would imagine a regular robot to sound like. “My previous subjects have not fared as well as I had hoped; I will admit to this, as much as it pains me. But progress cannot happen if one gives up. I believe I have a solution.”

“Oh? Do tell?” Megatron looks only vaguely intrigued. You notice how his hellfire optics flick down to Ravage for a brief moment.

“The predacon material we have gathered on this planet needs a living source of energy.” Shockwave holds up a big glass container of something that looks like metal fragments floating in fluid. “It is not enough to create them by servo. I must fuse the remains with a living creature of Cybertronian origin. As luck would have it, there is one such creature present on the  _ Nemesis _ .”

He turns to look at Ravage in footage. The visual shakes slightly and it is as if Ravage has taken a couple of steps back.

Soundwave’s massive form moves in front of Ravage’s line of sight so that all you can see is the back of his frame. You don’t hear him say anything—you recall Knock Out telling you that he doesn’t speak and communicates through audio clips—but you hear Megatron say, “Ah, Soundwave, one of my most loyal allies...I know how deeply you care for your pet. But I trust you understand the gravity of the situation. If Shockwave requires the cybercat in order to fulfill our goals, then so be it.” 

He sounds sickeningly pleased with himself. You want to throw a bomb at the hologram. Unfortunately, Wheeljack only lets you handle explosives when he’s around. You’re a little miffed that there’s no visible markings on Megatron’s finish from the bombs you’d thrown at him back in Siberia. Then again, he had three months to recover.

Briefly, you wonder if Silas is still alive.

You shove the thought back to a dark corner of your brain because after everything he did to Breakdown, you really don’t fucking care. 

There’s a few moments of silence. Then Megatron laughs darkly, and says in a mockingly assuring tone, “Of course you may have some time to say your farewells. I’m sure the good doctor will give you a few breems alone.”

“Exactly four and a half,” Shockwave replies affirmatively. “I must return to my quarters and prepare a new datapad for this particular experiment.”

There’s the sound of footsteps disappearing. You hear Megatron murmur something in a dangerously low voice but can’t make out the words, and then it is accompanied by the sound of his departure shortly after.

The hologram suddenly jostles and jerks and the scene changes to a different room. Soundwave’s visor is gazing right into the recording; he must be looking into Ravage’s optics. You see movement in the outskirts of the recording. It looks like he is petting her with freakishly long fingers while she is cradled in his arms. An image flashes on his visor—the Autobot insignia. 

And then Ravage seems to hop out of his arms, turn her head, and gaze upon the familiar view of a ground bridge swirling with fascinatingly beautiful rings of energy. Ravage takes a step forward, and then another one, and just as she leaps into the tunnel the recording stops abruptly.

You, Knock Out, Arcee, and Smokescreen all look at one another with similar expressions of “holy shit.”

“...I think we should call a team meeting,” Arcee suggests slowly, putting her weapons away and at least relaxing her battle stance. 

And that is how, ten minutes later, you and the whole of Team Prime (minus Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus, who are on individual missions at the moment) are in the base’s main control room. You’re sitting on the couch with a plate of a giant piece of cake in one hand, unable to take a bite just yet as you admire the rainbow layers and buttercream so expertly applied in flowery decorations. Knock Out stands behind the couch with his arms crossed over his chassis, optics trained warily on Ravage. She is laying down on the floor next to you with her head in her paws. Her shoulders droop and her tail doesn’t move. She’s avoiding looking at anyone, not even you, and you want to just cuddle the poor thing until your arms go numb.

The kids are all sitting a few feet away with their own plates of cake, flanked by their respective Autobot guardians. Miko has a piece even bigger than yours, which is fine, but you can just tell Bulkhead is resisting the urge to lecture her about her sugar intake. Jack has a relatively small piece and is mostly going after the frosting, and Arcee watches with a fondness akin to an older sister. Raf is the opposite, pushing the frosting off and eating just the actual cake, and Bumblebee looks like he desperately wants to be able to consume organic food as he stares at the frosting longingly.

No one has said happy birthday to you which is exactly how you wanted it. Your heart swells with a surge of affection for everyone gathered around you, human and Cybertronian alike. Despite the rocky beginnings...they’re your family now. You thank the stars every night before you go to bed for finding them—and for Knock Out most of all. 

You save a special thank you for Breakdown. Somehow, you just know in your soul that he hears it, from whatever constellation his spark is chilling in. 

“So let me get this straight—” Ratchet begins to say, but you and Knock Out interrupt him.

“I’m not,” you both say in tandem. You immediately grin up at Knock Out and blow him a kiss with a wink. He is trying (and failing) to hide the ever-growing smirk spreading across his face as Ratchet groans piteously and chooses to ignore your candid remarks.

“Ravage, the cybercat Soundwave personally raised and turned into an expert killing machine, somehow got into the base without setting off any alarms. Furthermore, she treats ___ with a suspicious amount of affection. Lastly, she showed you a recording from the  _ Nemesis _ suggesting Shockwave was attempting to revive  _ predacons _ by using her in some kind of experiment, and Soundwave apparently let her escape and told her to find the Autobots.” Ratchet scoffs and shakes his helm, glaring at the cybercat in question. Ravage makes a quiet whimper and retreats further in on herself, frame shaking.

“Okay, yeah, when you put it that way it sounds insane,” you admit. You set the cake down and slide down to the floor so that you’re right up against Ravage. “But she’s not going to hurt me, or anyone else. She’s scared. We need to protect her,” you insist as you put a comforting hand on top of her head and begin to stroke her ears slowly. 

“What concerns me is not only how she infiltrated the base,” Optimus says gravely, “but how it seems that Soundwave is aware of our location to the degree where he was able to send Ravage directly to us.”

Knock Out shakes his helm. “He’s good, but not that good. If he discovered exactly where the base is then Megatron would have destroyed it by now. I’m under the impression they still only know we operate in the area. Maybe…” He slowly looks down at Ravage, who is still hiding her head in her paws, but under your tender ministrations has become less rigid. “I interacted with Soundwave many times. Perhaps she remembered my scent?”

“But if she was following your scent she should have found you when we were out getting ___’s cake,” Raf points out through a mouthful of cake, waving his fork at Knock Out and sending crumbs flying through the air.

You and Knock Out share a knowing glance. Both of you make sure that every surface you share intimate moments on is properly sanitized afterwards. It’s simple science, however, to comprehend just how drenched the room is with Knock Out’s scent—and yours—from how much time he spends in it. You can wash a sweatshirt over and over again but sometimes you can never get the smell of Japanese cherry blossom body spray out of it because the aroma has been embedded in the fabric. The same rules applied here.

_ God, I still have that sweatshirt I stole from Leah, don’t I? Ugh. I should light it on fire later. Can’t believe I entirely forgot about it. Guess I’ve been that content with Knock Out. _

“Anyway,” Knock Out segues effortlessly, and thankfully Raf is so engaged in his cake that he doesn’t catch on to how he ignored his question, “we still need to find out how the cybercat got in without setting off the alarms. She went through the vents but where exactly did she enter?”

“I can just ask her, you know,” you say as you continue to cuddle Ravage. “She’s intelligent enough to understand what I’m saying and write her name in Cybertronian. She can show us how she got in.” 

Ravage at last lifts her head from her paws and turns to look at you. Her violet optics are still absolutely mesmerizing; they’re almost like a kaleidoscope of purple. She rumbles deep in her chest like the way a tiger chuffs and gets up on all four paws. You rise with her, keeping one hand comfortingly on the side of her muzzle as she flicks her perceptive gaze to everyone gathered in the main room. Her back suddenly arches and she makes some hacking noises, opening her jaws wide as she coughs up not one, not two, but three circular objects onto the floor like a hairball. Gross green slime coats them and it looks like the objects have begun to partially melt away. 

“Well. Guess we know how she didn’t trip the alarms,” Ratchet mutters in a tone that sounds annoyed on the surface, but you’ve got the grumpy old bot figured out well enough to know he’s actually somewhat impressed. “She ate them. Unbelievable.”

Unable to help yourself, you squeal and hug Ravage around the neck. “You  _ really  _ are the smartest kitty in the universe!” She relaxes even more and purrs quietly as she leans into your touch.

“Can you repair them, Ratchet?” Optimus asks. “We had best get them set back up as soon as we can.”   
  
“As long as the hardware inside is still intact, yes.” 

Bulkhead, being the closest to you and Ravage except for Knock Out, bends down and stretches out a servo to pick up the hacked up alarms. 

“Ew, ew, ew, ew!” Miko makes her own horrified gagging noise. “Wipe them off before you touch them, Bulkhead!” She pulls out a handkerchief from nowhere (you really didn’t peg her as the type to carry one around), rolls it into a ball, and throws it at Bulkhead.

Bulkhead is not the most nimble of Cybertronians, however.

In his attempt to catch it, he manages to stumble, and his heavy pede comes crashing down on all three of the devices. You wince when you hear the fragile things get crushed under his massive weight. 

“Bulkhead!” Ratchet cries out in exasperation, slapping the palm of his servo to his faceplate and groaning. “I  _ needed  _ that!”

“Oops. Sorry.” Bulkhead lifts his pede sheepishly to reveal a mess of cybercat saliva and squashed bits of highly-sensitive technology.

“...I’ll get started on making entirely new alarms,” Ratchet grumbles, sounding very tired and resigned. Then again, he usually did. 

“Need any assistance?” Knock Out asks eagerly. He genuinely enjoys working with Ratchet, even though they have the tendency to argue a lot over their preferred methods of research and analysis. But when they combine their brilliance, the two medics are capable of doing anything they put their processors to. They are inseparable lab bros. Even if both are too stubborn to admit it out loud.

Ratchet shrugs nonchalantly but the way a fraction of a smile appears on his faceplate for a second betrays his own enthusiasm. “I guess. It’ll get done quicker if both of us are working on it.”

“Excellent. Let me—” Knock Out cuts himself off and looks down at you, optics suddenly filled with a flash of guilt. “Is that okay with you, sweetspark? I know we had plans to spend the day together…”

God, you love how considerate he can be. If you weren’t in front of ninety percent of Team Prime, you’d jump him right then and there. “Babe, you know I don’t mind! I think we can both agree that today really did not turn out the way either of us imagined it would,” you assure him with a loving smile, still hugging a purring Ravage around the neck. “The base’s safety is more important than our plans to binge all of the Shrek movies.”

Jack snickers into his hand, and you shoot him a glare. His generation just can’t appreciate the complexity and beauty of Shrek’s character development throughout the franchise.

“Oh, sure,” Smokescreen blurts out, aggrieved. “You’ll watch Shrek with Knock Out but you won’t sit down for a Marvel marathon with me!”   
  
“Smokie, baby, you’re my best friend whom I adore very much,” you soothe, “but we both know the only valid Marvel movies are _ Black Panther _ and  _ Thor: Ragnarok _ . The rest literally do not exist for me.”

Smokescreen harrumphs but doesn’t reply, because he knows you’re right, and refuses to admit he has shit taste in movies.

“I’ll make up for it later tonight,” Knock Out promises with a flippant wink and smirk. You feel your cheeks burn with a delicious thrill and before you can retort with something just as flirty, Arcee clears her throat very loudly.

“So I take it we’re going to just let Soundwave’s cybercat stay with us?” she demands, looking to Optimus for confirmation. “Sure, she may seem all buddy-buddy for now, but who’s to say this isn’t some elaborate ruse to slaughter us all in stasis?”

“You are right to be concerned, Arcee,” Optimus answers with a solemn nod. You frown and hug Ravage tighter, anxious apprehension creeping up through your veins. But Optimus surprises you when he turns to look at you and Ravage, and says, “I truly think Soundwave cares for his pet, and knew we would keep her safe from whatever gruesome experiments Shockwave is planning. If it is to prevent something Megatron desires, then so be it. Ravage may remain with us.”

You fistpump victoriously in the air, wriggling with excitement. “Fuck  _ yes _ ! I have a cat now! This is the best birthday ever!”

Ravage blinks her optics rapidly and her entire body shudders in what you think is shock. She tilts her head questioningly at Optimus and meows in a skeptical tone.

Optimus strides over to you and Ravage, kneeling down on the floor. He reaches a servo out and cautiously, slowly, holds it close to Ravage’s nose. She leans forward and sniffs it once; twice; and then butts her head into the palm of his servo, the tension in every joint and metal muscle at last fading away. 

“The last time we let ourselves be blinded by our experiences with Decepticons, we hurt two beings who just needed our help and belief in them,” he says as he looks at you and Knock Out with a profound remorse that he has never let go, even though you both have told him many times that the past is in the past. “I would be remiss to repeat those mistakes. Besides…” He affectionately rubs Ravage between her optics and she lets out a content meow. “I have always been partial to cybercats. More so than cyberhounds.”

Arcee ex-vents frustratedly but Optimus’s word is enough for her. “Alright. I guess I’ll roll with it for now. Anyway, Bumblebee and I are going to go fix the air vent in your room. And patrol the perimeters for anything else that’s been compromised.”

Bumblebee beeps at Arcee, cocking his helm and gesturing to Raf’s frosting remains. 

“No, Bumblebee. You cannot try to ingest the human food no matter how tempting it looks,” she deadpans sternly. “Your systems  _ will  _ override.” You have a feeling they’ve had this conversation too many times and the result is always the same. 

The meeting is adjourned. Optimus heads off to his private quarters. Bulkhead and Miko disappear down the hall for the training room. Arcee, Bumblebee, Jack, and Raf head in the direction of your and Knock Out’s shared room. You’re thankful you made sure to pick up your dirty laundry off the floor last night in a rare spur of the moment adulting. And the half-empty bag of chips on your bed. And the plate of chicken nuggets in your microwave. And draining the tub after you used a bath bomb called “cherry bomb” that made the water look like you’d just murdered someone. ...actually, you don’t remember if you took care of that or not. You hope you did. 

Ratchet and Knock Out are in the medical slash laboratory area, already getting to work. It’s just you, Smokescreen, and Ravage who are left with no plans. 

“Sooooooo,” you drawl lazily as you at last finish your piece of cake, indulging in every sugary bite, “wanna go drive around in circles and see if you can beat your record today?”

Smokescreen brightens. It’s a little hobby of his, and yours—racing around the mesa the outpost is built into and seeing how fast he can make the laps. You only do it when everyone else is busy, though, because one time Smokescreen got distracted by the Britney Spears song you were playing on the radio and crashed into a boulder so hard his frame was dented for a week. Ratchet was not pleased. Knock Out was not pleased. Both of you had to endure a very stern lecture regarding driving safety.

“Oh, wait,” you swallow the final piece of cake and look over at Ravage, who is investigating every inch of the control room. “I don’t think we should leave her. Maybe she’ll race you?”

“Hah! As if a cybercat could beat me,” Smokescreen boasts, puffing out his chassis. “I’m the fastest thing on your planet!”

“Ravage,” you call out, and she pauses in her sniffing of the ground bridge area, ears perking and head turning towards you, “do you wanna race Smokescreen?”

She bounds over gracefully and sits in front of Smokescreen expectantly, tail swishing to and fro. “Ah, we’ll actually go outside,” you explain as you reach over and rub her cheek. “There’s definitely not enough room in here for him to transform into his alt-mode and make donuts.” 

Fifteen minutes later, the three of you are out in the heat of the Nevadan desert. The sun is beating down and there isn't a cloud in the bright blue sky. Smokescreen has opted for a smaller mesa that’s about a couple miles away from the Autobot base to make it “more fair” on Ravage. You’ve chosen to remain in the shadows up against the cliff with your phone pulled out to time them both rather than ride with Smokescreen. Honestly, you’re worried that in his excitement he’ll run into something again. 

“It will be three laps,” you call out to both of them. Smokescreen revs his engine obnoxiously and Ravage just grooms her paw with a lackadaisical air, paying the sportscar next to her no mind in true feline fashion. “No cheating! On go, the race will begin. One...two...three…GO!”

Smokescreen tears off across the sand, sending it spraying everywhere in a cascade as his tires squeal and exhaust blows from his tailpipe. Ravage rushes after him with the grace of a cheetah and you admit she’s faster than you expected. Both disappear around the bend of the mesa quicker than you can even sit down on the hard ground. 

Less than ten seconds later, you hear something.

The familiar crackle of a ground bridge manifesting.

You whip your head around and only thirty feet away from where you’re sitting, a ground bridge roars to life in the air.  _ That’s weird _ , you think as you watch,  _ since we’re so close to the base, if anyone needed us, they would just message over the comms _ —

It’s not any member of Team Prime who walks out of the ground bridge.

It’s Starscream, and the terrifying figure of Shockwave is right behind him.

You’re frozen where you sit, body locked and refusing to move. You can’t hear Smokescreen’s engine so he’s still on the other side of the mesa. Even so, just him against two Decepticons isn’t a fair fight. You try desperately to get your fingers to work and tap the SOS signal on your phone screen but it’s like you’re so paralyzed by fear that nothing is working. You don’t even have time to wonder how the fuck they got here. Starscream immediately catches sight of you and a nasty grin spreads across his faceplate as he and Shockwave approach you with long strides, and there’s nowhere for you to run.

“If it isn’t my favorite little fleshling! So good to see you. Now...where’s the cybercat?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you manage to stammer out, begging your hands to do what they’re supposed to do. Your breathing is hard and shaky. The last time you squared off against some Decepticons, you at least had a good chunk of the Autobots with you. But right now it’s just you, and Smokescreen somewhere too far away, and after seeing Ravage’s footage of Shockwave you want her absolutely nowhere near the cyclops fucker.

“Human,” Shockwave booms dispassionately, his single crimson optic staring at you like a surveillance camera. “I suggest you answer the query truthfully. I do not have time to waste. This is the location that fool Soundwave last entered into the ground bridge’s coordinates. I know the cybercat is nearby.” His right arm suddenly transforms into a cannon, because of  _ course  _ all the goddamn Decepticons have arm-cannons, and aims it directly at your trembling form. “You have precisely fifteen nano-kliks to tell me where it is located and if you refuse, then I will eradicate your inferior existence from this planet.”

Your mouth is dry. You can’t answer. All you can do is stare down the vast blackness of that cannon.

In the distance, you hear the sound of Smokescreen’s tires coming around the curve of the mesa.

Starscream snarls in agitation and turns to Shockwave. “We can just take her,” he suggests with a wicked amusement. “Use her as collateral. The cybercat for the human. The Autobots do love their squishy organics, after all.”

“Hm.” Shockwave stares at you unblinking. You’re vaguely aware that your fingers are at last working, and without even looking down at the screen you press down hard on the SOS signal multiple times. Neither Decepticon seems to notice what you’re holding; both are too focused on the stricken look of terror on your face, perhaps. 

After what feels like an eternity but really is only a few seconds, Shockwave nods briefly. “Your suggestion is noted and approved. We will bring the human to the  _ Nemesis  _ and ask the Autobots for the cybercat in exchange.”

You slip your phone into your pocket at the same time as Starscream reaches for you with both servos. “ _ SMOKESCREEN _ ,” you scream at the top of your lungs just as his claws wrap around your body and yank you into the air. The last thing you see is a cloud of dust and sand approaching, and then there’s an intense pain in the back of your head and you think  _ Did that asshole just hit me? _

Everything goes black.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

You awake with a crick in your neck and a dull agony aching through your head. You feel queasy. Your eyesight is blurry. It’s too bright. Every sound is ten times too loud. Your body feels like it’s floating even though your mind knows you’re laying on the cold hard ground, hands locked behind your back in some kind of manacles.

_ I have a concussion _ , you think somewhat lucidly as you struggle to gather your surroundings. 

You’re in a cell. A very large cell clearly meant for a Cybertronian and not a human. It’s empty and devoid of anything that could be called a basic comfort, which makes sense. Why would the Decepticons put a bed or a toilet in their cell when they usually kill humans instead of taking them hostage? 

There’s a screen of electromagnetic energy in place of bars and it hums with a dangerous song that you know will kill you immediately if you try and touch it. Beyond it lies the lab-like chamber you saw in Ravage’s hologram. It’s even more horrifying in person. Your addled mind does its best to comprehend everything you’re seeing, but in all honesty, your head just hurts too much to stare at the giant alien technology for very long. 

There is one thing you get a good look at, though.

It’s a giant skeleton. Or what you think is a skeleton. It’s easily as big as a T-rex and looks like a metal dragon of some sorts, with sharp fangs bared as its remains lay on a giant exam table. The bones aren’t bleached white with age like an organic skeleton would be. They’re rusted, and bits have flaked off, like how abandoned vehicles always appear in post-apocalyptic movies. 

The skeleton is kind of cool, actually. It must be one of those “predacons” Shockwave had spoken about in Ravage’s hologram. You would enjoy it more if you currently weren’t imprisoned on an alien spaceship with a raging concussion. You never did get to ask the Autobots what a predacon was. 

_ Hnnnngh, fuck,  _ you think as you try to get into a sitting position but fail miserably, barely able to lift your head, much less your upper torso.  _ If I’m on the  _ Nemesis _ , does this mean I’m in space? Fuck you, Deceptidicks! My first time in space and I can’t even enjoy it! Why can’t there at least be some windows in your jail?! _

You don’t like the way the empty eye sockets of the predacon skeleton seem to watch you. You manage to turn your head and instead look at the smooth metal wall of the cell, hoping that focusing on something so simple will make your head hurt less.

You doze off, drifting in and out of consciousness. The sounds of machines whirring keep you from fully passing out again. You can hear heavy footsteps marching past the laboratory and a myriad of voices chattering nonsense. 

Time has no meaning. Sounds fade in and out. Your head throbs with consistent spasms of pain. You think you’re getting a fever.

Eventually, a familiar voice speaks to you from somewhere far away.

“Wake up, fleshling. You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

It’s Starscream, of course. Why wouldn’t it be? You groan weakly and roll your head back around, blearily blinking your eyes as his pointy form comes into view on the other side of the electromagnetic barrier. “Oh, fuck off,” you mutter and wish desperately that your hands weren’t cuffed together so you could flip him off with both middle fingers.

He gives you a sleazy smile. “I trust your accommodations have been adequate. We’ve never had a human on board, so your feedback is very important to us.”

“Needs more fancy soap that smells like lavender. And less concussion.”

“Oh? I take it you’re not enjoying your stay? How disappointing.”   
  
“I prefer when Knock Out kidnapped me,” you mumble as you glare at him. “He made my first time very special. And you never forget your first time.”

Starscream chooses to ignore your thinly veiled innuendo and paces back and forth in a way reminiscent of a supervillain getting ready to spill his entire plan on world domination just for dramatic effect. “Speaking of that traitorous slagheap,” he spits out distastefully, “I have good news for you. He’s agreed to hand over Soundwave’s pet in exchange for you. Isn’t that just wonderful? He was always so predictable even before he defected to the Autobots. I’ve lost track of the times he went out of his way for Breakdown. How  _ is  _ Breakdown doing, by the way? Oh, wait —I mean, how is his  _ body  _ doing?”

“God, do you ever tire of hearing your own voice?” you snap, closing your eyes and trying not to flinch when a fresh wave of nausea and pain roll over you. You won’t give the twisted bastard any ounce of satisfaction regarding Breakdown’s death. He isn't worth it.

“I suppose Soundwave became predictable as well,” Starscream continues unflappably as if you hadn’t spoken. “Which is quite shocking considering his loyalty to Megatron. If he hadn’t been so distracted by his concern for the cybercat, he would have properly cloaked the ground bridge’s last coordinates. Ugh. Feelings.” He visibly shudders and sneers. “What good do they do anybot?”

_ They let you realize how important you are to someone, and how important someone is to you.  _

You want to say it out loud but your consciousness is beginning to fade. You feel your phone start to vibrate in your pocket. You had completely forgotten about it. Not that you can answer it with your arms literally tied behind your back.

You drift off again as Starscream begins a long winded monologue about something you literally could give less than two shits about.

When you come to again, it’s to the sound of distant explosions from somewhere inside the ship. You’ve gotten enough lessons from Wheeljack that you know the glorious melodies anywhere. 

The cell you’re in shakes slightly as aftershocks of the blast rock through the entire ship, and you feel yourself roll in tandem with the ship tilting slightly. You let out a feeble yelp as you realize you’re rolling towards the electromagnetic barrier keeping you locked in the cell but, miracuously, you don’t hit it.

A shadow looms over you. You look up as best you can.

It’s Soundwave. At his side is a battered-looking Ravage who takes one look at you and immediately bounds over, nuzzling your face and meowing anxiously. You try to lift your arms to pet her but you’ve forgotten about the cuffs keeping your hands behind your back and groan when your shoulder starts to lock up painfully from the awkward angle. Ravage hisses and paws at the cuffs, glancing up at Soundwave.

Silent as a phantom, the Decepticon glides over to you and puts his servos on the cuffs. You don’t know what he does but one moment they’re tight around your wrists; the next they’re on the ground, and your hands are free again. 

“Thanks…?” you swallow a thick taste of nausea as you look into his blank visor, seeing yourself reflected in the surface. There are bruises under your eyes and your face is pale. You don’t feel threatened by him. Even if Ravage were not present, you think you would still feel that way. 

So, as you struggle to sit up and ignore the way the world wants to tilt, you ask, “Why are you helping me?”

Soundwave turns his helm slightly so that he’s looking at Ravage, then back to you. On his visor the trembling squiggle of an audio file appears and you do a double-take when you hear your own voice speaking back to you. 

“I just don’t want to get a pet and then have something happen to it,” you hear yourself say miserably. 

“It’s your choice,” Knock Out responds soothingly and your heart aches to hear his words. “I think you’re right to be worried, but I also want you to be happy.”

“Maybe I could convince Ratchet to let me set up an aquarium in one of the spare rooms,” you muse, and Knock Out lets out a brief chuckle.

“An aquarium? I thought you wanted something you could cuddle,” he teases.

The voices stop playing then. It was a conversation from a couple weeks ago. You remember it quite vividly. 

You also have no fucking clue how Soundwave has audio of it when that conversation was held in the privacy of your room in the Autobot base.

“H...how the hell did you…” You gape at Soundwave, unable to finish your sentence. He just stares at you, eerily silent, as you fumble for your words and stutter multiple times. Finally, a sudden realization sends a chill through your system and you blurt out, “Do you have the base bugged or something?!”   


Soundwave nods. At least he's honest.

“Oh my god. Oh my  _ god _ ,” you groan as you hide your flaming face in your hands. “Does that mean...h-have you heard…” Okay, maybe you should be worrying about the compromised security of the Autobots, but you’re a little too concerned about the possibility of your and Knock Out’s sessions being recorded and stored away like a tasty little tidbit. 

Soundwave shakes his helm. “For your own privacy,” comes a feminine voice from the new audio file playing in his helm, “everything is kept strictly confidential.” It sounds like some kind of insurance commercial.

Another explosion rocks the ship. This one is louder. You can hear a dissonant cacophony of voices shouting all at once, echoing down the halls of the ship. Before you can ask Soundwave anything else he suddenly has you in his servos and places you on his shoulder, ignoring your yelps of surprise. You do your best to ignore the vertigo. A weird cable emerges from a panel underneath his chassis and wraps around your waist, tight enough that you’re secure but not so tight that it’s squeezing you. You make a mental note to ask Knock Out how he feels about tentacle kinks.

With how pointy he is it’s hard to find a comfortable spot between the spikes protruding from his frame. You brace yourself by hooking your fingers under the plate of his shoulder as best you can. Soundwave begins to walk out of the lab and exits through a wide doorway that leads to an even wider hallway, and your heart leaps to your throat at what you see before you.

The hallway is lined with windows to the outside. And outside of them? 

It’s space.

It’s the fucking  _ universe _ .

Millions of stars blink at you as they remain nestled in their blanket of empty blackness. They’re so much brighter than they ever are on Earth. You don’t recognize any of the constellations but the epiphany that you may not be in the same solar system as Earth isn’t what chokes you up. It’s the sheer vastness of everything. It’s how the stars are arranged like perfect diamonds in a bed of black velvet. You feel small. You feel insignificant. And yet, at the same time, you feel part of something bigger than anything else you could ever hope to comprehend.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe in wonder as Soundwave stalks down the halls with Ravage padding silently by his side. It’s enough to make the pain in your head stop as tears form in the corners of your eyes and roll down your feverish cheeks, unbidden.

You wonder if it’s within the constellations of this galaxy that Breakdown has made his home.

Soundwave pauses briefly and turns his helm to follow your gaze. Both of you are reflected in the ship’s window; it’s almost as if you’re appearing amongst the stars yourselves. “It’s beautiful,” you hear him play your awestruck voice back to you after a moment. You guess that if you see this kind of scenery day after day, it loses its luster eventually. 

You wish you could gaze out the window forever. But your stargazing is cut short when a stampede of footsteps approach and round the corner of the hall, and three Decepticons are suddenly blocking the way. They’re all relatively uniform, and don’t have much to differentiate between themselves, and all hold very large guns in their servos that they immediately draw and point at Soundwave.

Before you have time to panic, Soundwave raises a servo and points one long finger at the group of Decepticons.

Ravage lunges forward with a deadly snarl that makes even your skin crawl. She leaps onto one of the Decepticons, a flurry of fangs and claws. The barbed spike on her tail whips at another one, and a projectile shaped like an arrowhead flies out from the end and embeds itself in the faceplate of the Decepticon. She swipes a paw at the third one and you hear the sound of metal scraping. All three Decepticons cry out in shock and pain, desperately trying to aim their weapons on the cybercat, but are no match for her speed and precision. She’s like a hurricane; she’s like a raging storm of fury and sharpness. 

It’s fucking  _ awesome _ .

You watch as Ravage easily dispatches them with bites to the cables in their necks and claws ripping into their chassis. They stumble to the floor in a clanging pile, unmoving. Blue Cybertronian blood oozes out of the slashing wounds all across their finishes. Ravage hisses once, bats at a body to make sure it’s not going to get up again, and then begins to lick the blood from her claws with a grotesquely long tongue. It’s forked like a snake’s. 

“Holy shit.” You blink at the carnage she left, now understanding the “killing machine”  comment from Ratchet back in the base. “Soundwave, I love your cat so much.”

Soundwave doesn’t answer but you know the feeling is mutual.

He steps over the pile of Decepticons and continues his way down the hallway. Ravage follows faithfully at his side, occasionally looking up at you to make sure you’re still there. The sounds of fighting are getting closer and closer. Gunfire and explosions fill your ears. You wince as the loud sounds shake not only the ship but also the equilibrium of your brain. 

A sudden surge of vertigo and nausea overcome you. You don’t realize you’ve passed out again until you feel your body being jostled by Soundwave’s cable tightening around your waist. You force your eyes open to see a scene of pure pandemonium. 

You don’t know what kind of room you’re in, but it’s big. Bigger than the lab. Shockwave and about two dozen of those plain-looking Decepticons are fending off members of Team Prime. Arcee, Smokescreen, Bumblebee, Knock Out, and Wheeljack to be precise. It’s an evenly matched fight, and the room you’re in is almost in total ruins. Scorch marks are etched into the metal floor, bullet holes are scattered about the walls. Pieces of technology are destroyed or melted or knocked over on the ground. It looks like a warzone. It reminds you of Siberia, in the MECH compound.

Neither Megatron nor Starscream seem to be present. You don't have time to ponder why.

Ravage immediately tears off into the fray with a ferocious blood-chilling roar, heading straight for the Decepticon closest to her with her claws unsheathed. Poor fucker doesn’t stand a chance.

Knock Out spins around when he sees Ravage join the fight, looking in the direction where she came from. When he sees you leaning against Soundwave’s shoulder the relief is palpable in the way he seems to sag. “You found her!” he calls out, voice shrill with joy as he easily dodges a Decepticon who is gripping some kind of long rod with a crackling ball of electricity at the end. “Slag off, Steve!” he snarls as his saw blade collides with the Decepticon’s servo, cutting into the finish and leaving a gaping tear as the Con gasps in pain and drops the rod, stumbling back and clutching his injured servo.

Knock Out transforms his saw blade back into a servo and picks the rod off of the ground, grinning menacingly as the sparking orb at the end flares wildly. “Oh, yeah. Come to daddy.”

You’re actually glad you have a concussion because hearing Knock Out refer to himself as “daddy” in an absolutely unhinged feral manner would be the death of you otherwise.

“I know you recorded that,” you say instead to Soundwave. “Please delete it from your files immediately.”

Soundwave turns his helm to look at you on his shoulder. “Daddy,” his visor plays in Knock Out’s frenzied tone at a decibel wholly inappropriate for the current situation. To make matters even worse, immediately afterwards, his visor changes to an image of ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and you just gape at him. 

“...why are you doing this to me.”

The words “because no one will ever believe you” flashes in Comic Sans font across his visor accompanied by a peace sign emoji. 

“I’m going to ignore you now and pretend like I don’t know this about you.”

While you were discovering the horrors of Soundwave’s secret memelord status, the fight of course dragged on. You turn your attention back to it to find that most of the Decepticons have been incompacitated by the combined efforts of the Autobots. 

Knock Out is gleefully jabbing the sparking rod into the faces of the Decepticons as they struggle to shoot and dodge at the same time. The moment it connects with their bodies a net of static electricity engulfs them and they spasm uncontrollably like they’ve stuck their fingertips in a live socket. They fall to the ground in crumpled twitching heaps and Knock Out shouts, “Haha! Just like old times, eh?”

“I remember the old times involving the Autobots being on the other end of the stasis rod, not Cons!” Arcee answers as she punches a Decepticon in the faceplate who has run out of ammo and instead desperately lunges towards the smallest Autobot in the room. The Decepticon stumbles back into Smokescreen, who gets him in a headlock, allowing Arcee to aim her pistol and shoot him directly in the chassis. 

It’s hot. But then again, Arcee is always hot.

“Hey, kitty! Catch!” Wheeljack calls out to Ravage, who’s been tearing up a group of Decepticons. Her head jerks up and she looks over at the Autobot. He’s holding a stick of what is one hundred percent dynamite, and he’s grinning wildly as he tosses it into the air.

Towards Shockwave.

Who has begun to slink behind the chaos, heading for the door, realizing the odds have now turned severely against him.

Even from your position at least forty feet away and on Soundwave’s shoulder, you can see how Ravage’s violet optics narrow. She hisses and starts to race for the dynamite that is soaring majestically through the air. She jumps, catching the dynamite between her fangs, and lands in an elegant roll. Ravage doesn’t even stop and uses the momentum to run faster, barreling straight at Shockwave.

It happens in slow motion.

Ravage leaps onto Shockwave’s retreating back, claws digging into his shoulders, shoving the dynamite in between the plates of his frame. She pushes off on his back with her hind legs and jumps off, racing towards you and Soundwave. 

Shockwave reaches his arms behind his back but can’t get to the dynamite; Ravage has wedged it in at an angle that’s impossible to reach. He starts to say something angrily in Cybertronian but it is cut off as Wheeljack holds up a servo, revealing a remote detonator, and presses down on it.

Shockwave explodes.

Well, the ground beneath him explodes. Because at the same time, Wheeljack also throws a bunch of tiny round bombs at Shockwave’s pedes, and you realize the dynamite was all a clever ruse. Shockwave falls through the floor as it implodes in on itself, servos desperately trying to find purchase but to no avail. The sound of this explosion, now that you’re so close to it, is enough to send you reeling back to unconsciousness. It is utterly deafening.

You really don’t like concussions.

When you come to—for like the fourth time today—you’re no longer on Soundwave’s shoulder. Instead, you’re cradled against Knock Out’s chassis, dizzy and skin so hot it feels like you’re on fire. But you’re alive. And so is everyone else.

“You know what Megatron will do to you if you stay here,” Knock Out is saying harshly. You lift your head to find him scowling at Soundwave. “Come with us. Join the Autobots. Megatron doesn’t care about those working under him—especially now that you’ve disobeyed his orders!”

Soundwave shakes his helm silently. Knock Out groans in exasperated frustration.

“Okay. Fine. Be that way. But just so you know, I am  _ not  _ sharing the berth with your damn cat!”

“We need to go!” you hear Arcee shout from somewhere. 

“Scans say there’s an entire horde of reinforcements heading towards our position,” Wheeljack adds with a sense of urgency. “We’re cleaned out from fighting this bunch of Cons. We need to pull back.”

“Plus we need to get ___ to the base!” Smokescreen sounds so far away. You’re floating again. Voices are starting to blend together. Your eyes start to droop shut.

The sound of a ground bridge fills your ears. You rest against the safety of Knock Out’s chassis, wanting so badly to say something to everyone, but words aren’t working. Your head hurts. 

You manage to have the energy to crack open an eye just in time to see Soundwave’s visage disappear in a flash of blue as Knock Out steps backwards into the ground bridge, giving his former ally one last farewell nod. Soundwave raises a servo in response, and you swear for a brief moment the black screen of his visor fades to show a rather handsome Cybertronian face with scarring around the mouth.

Two violet optics stare directly at you. You don’t know if they’re an illusion conjured from the concussion or if you’ve really just caught a glimpse of Soundwave’s face.

You choose to believe the latter.

_ Goodbye, you cat-loving sonuvabitch,  _ you think with a fond smile before slipping into the abyss of unconsciousness. 

  
  


x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It takes you a week to recover. 

You learn that the moment Starscream and Shockwave kidnapped you (you’re pretty sure being kidnapped twice by alien robots was some kind of record even though the first time didn’t really count), Smokescreen called up Team Prime and frantically told them of what he had witnessed. Knock Out was too worried to be angry at the fact that you and Smokescreen had done what you had been explicitly told  _ not  _ to do.

They had opened up a channel of communication to bargain with the Decepticons for your safe return, of course. They promised to hand over Ravage in order to get you back but, much to your delight and surprise, were going to just break you out and not give Ravage up. 

The most astonishing thing about the whole situation?   
  
It was Soundwave who came up with the plan.

He contacted Team Prime and told them he could get them onto the  _ Nemesis  _ before Starscream and Soundwave could finish “negotiating.” He told them the locations of Megatron, Starscream, Shockwave, and basically all of the other Decepticons on the ship. Megatron had yet to learn of his treachery on account of Starscream and Soundwave being too eager to take care of everything on their own before tattling on him to their lord and liege. Soundwave used their fervor for wicked malevolence against them in a calculating scheme to give the Autobots access to the  _ Nemesis’s  _ ground bridge.

When Optimus asked why Soundwave would do this for them, the answer was simple.

He loved his cat, and he wanted her to have a better home. 

You had been on the  _ Nemesis  _ for only half a day. But due to the concussion, it had felt like a lifetime. 

Soundwave knew where you were being kept, of course. He waited until the Autobots infiltrated the ship so he could get you with Ravage in tow. 

Knock Out admitted he was skeptical and uneasy to trust him with something so important, but he knew deep down that Soundwave was better suited for the task than himself. Plus, he knew that Ravage would be more inclined to listen to him. As intelligent as she was, she was still a cat. And no being in the universe was more capricious and fickle than a cat.

Optimus, Bumblebee, and Ultra Magnus (he and Wheeljack were immediately bridged back to base for the rescue mission) were sent off to another part of the ship to distract Starscream. Ratchet, as usual, stayed behind in his role of monitoring the scans and making sure the base was protected. And to watch the kids. Everyone else was focused on Shockwave.

No one went after Megatron. It wasn’t necessary this time around. You imagine he was absolutely furious when he learned of the breach in his ship’s security and the subsequent failure of his lackeys to stop it.

After the successful retrieval of yourself and returning to the base, you were confined to intense bedrest for an entire week. Knock Out didn’t leave your side, except only to get you chicken nuggets. Which you asked for a lot. And because he loves you more than you love chicken nuggets, he went all the way to Jasper’s McDonald’s to pick them up. Sometimes you feel guilty about how willing Knock Out is to go above and beyond to ensure your happiness. Only a little. A fraction. A smidge.

The times he was gone, Ravage watched over you faithfully. You asked her to remove the bugs around the base and she did so without hesitation. You didn’t tell anyone about them . It would mean that Soundwave had always known the location of the base, and you felt like you owed it to him to keep it a secret. You knew he wasn’t going to do anything with that information, especially now that he was probably on the run from the Decepticons. But still. You wanted to be able to have sex with Knock Out without Soundwave accidentally tuning in.

You’ve heard from Soundwave once since everything that happened. The day after the kidnapping and consecutive rescue occurred, you woke up to a message on your phone from an unknown number. 

It was the audio file. Of Knock Out. Referring to himself “daddy.” The only other indication that it was Soundwave was the line of cat emojis attached to the message.

That accursed sound is your new ringtone specifically for Knock Out’s messages. You cannot wait until he finds out.

It’s night now. You’ve at last been approved by both Ratchet and Knock Out to move around freely, though you still need to take it easy for a few days. At least your head doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode anymore and you can sit up without being engulfed by vertigo.

You’re sitting with Knock Out on top of the mesa that the base is built into. He’s wrapped you in a fuzzy blanket to keep the chilly desert night air from seeping into your bones. Your head is against his shoulder and he’s got one arm around you as you both gaze up at the starry sky, the full moon bathing you in gentle light.

Ravage is with you as well, and her head is resting on your lap as she purrs softly. She’s your shadow, now. Every time you look at her, your heart surges with an affection so powerful that you can’t help but throw your arms around her neck and hug her tight. 

Your ever-growing family can’t get more perfect than this.

“This is nice,” you say into the quiet of the night. The stars aren’t quite as spellbinding from this angle now that you’ve experienced them almost firsthand. They’re still pretty, of course, but nothing will ever compare to the sight you witnessed through the windows of the  _ Nemesis _ .

“It is,” Knock Out agrees. “I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of looking at your planet’s moon. It’s beautiful. But,” he pulls you closer to him and starts to stroke your hair, glancing down at you with the gentlest and most tender of expressions, “the moon has nothing on you, sweetspark.”

Your cheeks heat up. Three months of dating and you’re still not used to how he can make your heart race and butterflies panic in your stomach. He makes it so simple. You’re always fumbling to return the favor, but being that you only have one brain cell most of the time, it isn’t the easiest thing to do.

“You know who else is beautiful?” you ask him coyly, batting your eyelashes as you gaze up at him longingly.

In a rare display of bashfulness, Knock Out clears his throat and glances away from you. If it were physically possible for Cybertronians to blush, you’re pretty sure he would be doing exactly that. “Who?”

“Ravage.”

The cybercat in question flicks her ears towards the sound of your voice but remains still with her head in your lap. Her purring deepens and gets a little louder, and Knock Out scowls down at her as you grin deviously and stroke her on the nose.

“Now you’re just being cruel,” he accuses you, and you let out a laugh as you reach up towards his faceplate to pull him close for a kiss.

The stars are shining. The moon is bright. You are loved with a strength of a thousand suns by more people and beings than you ever thought would be possible in your life. And, in turn, you love them all just as fiercely.

  
All is well in your world.

**Author's Note:**

> so, i think this is going to be the end of this particular series. i feel like i wrapped it up pretty nicely. maybe i'll get an idea for another part some day but for now, im calling it finished. plus, uh...my furlough from my job ends this week and i won't have time to write again for the foreseeable future.
> 
> kinda pissed i spent the whole quarantine doing nothing and then in the last couple weeks i get a random burst of energy and write 50k words lmao  
> thank you if you've read all three parts! writing knock out and the adventures of one-braincell-reader has been an absolute joy. i truly don't remember the last time i had this much fun writing. 
> 
> if you enjoyed this, keep an eye out! i might have to go back to work, but i've got a basic outline plotted out for a potential arcee x reader. i'd love to be able to share that with you all soon!


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